The Student Insurgent Issue 35.2 "Nostalgia"

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| play my family’s piano out of tune because it’s been out
of tune for as long as we’ve had it. | never learned any
actual chords or how to play properly, but | kinda like it
that way. | like the idea that if broken keys still make sound,
they can still create music. Broken thoughts and fragments
of ideas become lyrics and rhymes that others can relate to.
Some of them listen through broken headphones that only
work on one side, but still carry symphonies. Ripped pieces
of paper can be pasted onto one another, surrounded by
stickers and pictures and tape to create a new image, a new
message. Broken toys can still be loved. Stuffed animals
with missing limbs and loose strings can still be held in the
arms of a child who finds comfort in the little things. So

| stand at the piano, and record any sounds that work.
Because we're all a little out of tune, but that doesn’t mean
we shouldn’t be heard. — Lynx

“UO’s Last Chance!” Rally and
Aver ted Str ike By: amaru x Nephrite

On January 11th, 2024 a troupe thick
with signs and hoodies filled the EMU green
as chants for a living wage emerged from
the middle of the circle and radiated to the
buildings. This was the final bargaining
session for the Graduate Teaching Fellows
Federation’s (GTFF) rising push to an equitable
compensation for their vigorous work. The
EMU green was strategically chosen to be in
sight of the EMU room upstairs where GTFF’s
bargaining team was currently negotiating the
final expressions of GTFF’s proposed contract.

This final rally was a last chance for UO administration to propose a fair contract before a
strike set to begin on January 17th. Due to unprecedented inflation, the stipend for UO graduate
employees (GE's) on average is merely 64% percent of Eugene's living wage, despite many holding
the equivalent of two full time jobs: undergraduate educators as well as graduate students,
which highlights not only the failure of UO
to recognize the value of GE's work at this
university, but also the failure of UO to respect
GEs as workers at all.

After 10 months of pressure through
#1 gathering membership and ally support, as
‘A well as a looming threat of strike, UO finally
provided a satisfactory contract, which for
the course of 3 years will bring up the GEs’
salary to a $2500 per month minimum (and an
average earning of about 90% of Eugene's living
wage), introduce anti-discrimination policies
for trans and nonbinary GEs, as well as feature
a new article specifically to address the needs of caregivers and international students to overall
make graduate school more accessible to a broader range of people.

We interviewed Rosa, a vice president for GTFF communications and a strong member
on the GTFF bargaining team, as we confirmed the contract agreed on is noted as being pretty
damn good to most graduate employees! GTFF is currently in the ratification process of the new
contract, as they are also impeccably informing members of GTFF at their general membership
meetings of all it entails, with details. So one may ask, well what made the UO crack? Did
someone new come in? Could admin not sleep after these persistent performances of unity
lasered into their skulls that this is translucently callous decision making, and they should put

their pride aside and perhaps their checks
down a few bucks? Rosa answered with

the truth, that there was a “sheer amount

of passion, energy, and organization from
(GTFF) members and allies” into the contract
campaign.

From undergrad solidarity stretching
to whole other campuses, there was nonstop
paperwork, loops to twist backwards
through, multitudinous hours waiting for
UO responses, and countless cries of fury
for justice, Rosa leaves us with wise words
that hold nothing but the proven truth, that
collective action works. It creates and hones
leaders, igniting a fire that spreads through
all involved as every little contribution was
part of the big success. The GEs planted a seed
last year and we now have a strong sapling
growing to give us all a little shade from UOs
burning exploiting rays.

Overall, the new contract is an incredible win for UO GEs, showcasing the power of
collective action and unionization. Additionally, this win marks a long-awaited recognition
of GEs as an integral part of the functioning of UO as an respectable educational institution.
Without GEs, our own education (as undergraduates) would be subpar, as we would rely on
people less qualified, less dedicated, and far less passionate to lead our sections, grade our
assignments, and overall help us engage with and find value in our education. This recognition
displays a culture shift at this university to indisputably classify GEs as the valuable employees
they are at UO, and hopefully will pave the way for GEs in the future to fight for their rights in
upcoming bargaining sessions.

What’s next for GT FF?

With this win under their belt
GTFF will now turn their attention

to helping smaller unions in their FAI R

upcoming bargaining sessions. Visit

gtff3544.net/about/affiliations/ to Cc © N T R ). Youn

learn more

NOW!

we

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Old Usernames By:DreamcastBlast

Another day and another worthless account to make and use up like a bitter meal, forced to
be swallowed. It seems like a daily occurrence for her as she sighs and glances upon the
account creation screen, eyes glazed over at the numbness of it all. It seems so simple
just to spew some garbage verification to play a new video game with her friends or sign
up for another job board, but doing it every month or so is very soul heavy. Her fingers
clanking at her laptop, the reflection from the glass keys looking at her with the baggy
eyes that she reflected.

Reflection is something that happens a lot in her room whether she likes it or not. Her full
length mirror gave all 1 person in that room a good luck at her lazy hunched over body.
Then there were all of the metals and trophies from years past, participation trinkets
for the most part for sports with a few diplomas for the various grades in glossy plastic.
These reflections were at best, unnoticeable and at their worst, reminders of wasted times
and sprained ankles, distractions then and distractions now from creating another account.

In the end, reflections can only give so much amusement to the ADHD riddled brain of the
woman at the computer, so she sighed and gave up a few minutes to account creation.
Personal information would be done first, Jessica J, age 20. It’s information that can make
her identifiable to any contacts while also not giving another sleazy megacorp another bit
of her personality to spy and pander too. Her last name kept a minor secret while her age
was a vague 20 while in reality she was really in her 20s instead of being that number
on the dot. She would’ve gone on in this crazed depressive rambling when all of a sudden
there was a peculiar event on her computer.

“Damn it!” Jessica spoke as she wiped her black, unkempt hair away from her eyes to reveal
the absolute chaos going on her screen. Her mouse was going haywire with clicks and shakes.
The white pointer jumps in an instant as she struggles to remember where her mouse was,
unable to find it through touch alone. Her desk gave her no feedback of a mouse and as she
finally jumped up from her desk she found the source of the misfortune. Under her cheeks
lay the black mouse being sat on, begging to be put back on its wooden desk and away from
the suffocating beanbag seat.

Readjusting herself was simple enough as she placed the mouse back into its home and her
hand reached for it once more. She was using the trackpad on her keyboard out of sheer
lazy standing, but now she had a reason to pay a bit more attention to herself. While she
was annoyed having to put 10% more effort into a tedious task, she would end up having
her baggy eyes widen as her screen showed an interesting set of names on a popup window.

In the rapid clicking that happened previously the mouse must’ve clicked on something she
rarely checked. So used to autofills and the computer remembering so much she couldn’t
help but let it do all the work in remembering the small things. She had assignments to do
and patterns to memorize so why not let the computer handle something as simple as names.
Although, now looking at these names, she can’t help but let out a small smile as she
silently synergises with her past selves, her previous identities, her usernames.

The first that appeared was an ancient relic from times long gone, from when she first
got her first computer. A hand me down of a hand me down from father to older brother to
herself but she didn’t mind getting her own device at age 6. Of course being so young
there was plenty for her to do that she really shouldn’t have been doing. That’s when
the first of these names arrived, from before she was even Jessica, when her name was
XXGreenbaySpongebob2003Xx.

An audible chuckle reached her mouth as she went to click on the Link who’s username once
housed a Youtube account. The channel was no more, the sands of time eroding the AMVs,
constraining Nu metal, Pop Punk and Dubstep laid atop of clips from various anime her past
self enjoyed at the time. More than likely all were claimed by copyright bots but in her
mind, in her memories, in her nostalgia they can all be there again. For her alone to smile
and laugh at and not for anyone else to cringe and wince at.

The list kept going down with similar usernames containing an XX in the beginning and a
XX at the end. For Neopets, Cartoon Network, and Deviantart it was a variation of a rock
band and a cartoon character each getting progressively more “adult” with age. Spongebob
became Avatar, Avatar became Family Guy and Family Guy became South Park. These accounts
as were the Youtube ones we’re all deader than dead on the world wide web. No need to mourn
as memories are for her and no one else.

As time would go on and the scrolling would reach about the halfway point is when the XX
became extinct and some more interesting usernames crowded the screen. No longer would it

be the cartoons or rock bands that go

t attention, but instead was school accounts, message

boards and social media who were a Jekyll and Hyde to say the least. On the school accounts
were the various boring first name then Last name portions, the first time she ever dreaded
making an account for every stupid assigned website that was used for one year and then
dropped forever. The more personal usernames however, tell a different story.

This is a story that is common in the world, a story of an edgy teen wanting to do edgy
things while sounding deep. Cutsofblood69, Whalinginmisery!, then there was a regretful
one that she didn’t want to even read out. With these there was a mix of cringe and
creativity as she looked upon those pages with some even still being up. They were relics
of ideas and concepts she thought she knew but really didn’t, only covered up by the fact
that there was no way to link them back to her with so much time passed and a new email

c

being used. She wanted to forget her

trip down memory Lane when she clicked the last link,

but was delighted to see it gone forever. Banned from the world and while always existing

in her mind, it can be seen as a lea
she doesn’t believe now.

She didn’t feel like going on much
self corrupt her new self would be be

20 something. One more click and that would be the end of this road, back to the task at
hand and back to her vision of the here and now. It’s here that nostalgia takes hold and
regret thankfully goes to die, it’s here she finds something she almost forgot about, her
favorite username and the first one created when Jessica was Jessica.

JstarPop is a name that doesn’t mean

rning experience instead of a catalyst of everything

longer after that near heart attack. To see her old

yond heartbreaking as the sins of 14 kill the current

anything to anyone, an old dusty account unused and

unkept on a dead message board. However it was here that the once bored college student was
giggling Like it was freshman year all over again. It was here when she uploaded everything

from karaoke to pictures of her body,
her own exploration. This ended of co

so much change in so little time as she went through
urse at the homepage of the account where she eagerly

clicked upon the “about me” section and with a smile read to herself.

“Jessica J: age 16” She spoke out loud as she couldn’t help but think back, her mind lost
in her own headspace with self discovery nostalgia. Her past before culminating with this
old username. This JstarPop was unknown to the world and would forever be unknown, but to

her none of that matters as it signal

From here on the usernames became

ls something amazing, the beginning of her present.

far more plentiful, yet far more standardized. The

sighing confirmation that these accounts were made when she was an adult. Randomly generated
garbage made just to get past a screen and verify an email. It was for applying for jobs
that never got back to her and for playing games she 9 times out of 10 didn’t seem to like.

It was a snap back to reality as she

It was here she had to do something, a
day. The notifications from Discord bl

finally returned to the account creation screen.

s she could only reflect on the past for so long in the
aring in her ears as it seems all of her friends were

already installing the game. With th

is, for the first time in a long time, she smiled as

she typed in her username. XXJstarBloodhoundXxX was written upon the screen as she audibly

cracked up as her nostalgia popped u

p a name for her. With the hard part done, came the

part she always did last. Her password was effortlessly typed in, sometimes with an extra
letter or a combination but always similar ever since she was 6. Despite everything she
always kept it around and it would greet her now and forever. Forever in her memories and
forever memorized, never to be seen by anyone but herself, and she couldn’t be happier.

The Death of
Genre

In the modern age, it feels like everything has to be a hybrid, a crossover, or blend.
This is true in music, literature, and film. But, it's just an acknowledgement of the truth.
The long-held idea of a literary canon is based on the opinions of the few, mostly white
men. These spaces aren't as exclusionary as they once were, though still have a long way
to go. Across the board, the publishing industry is extremely white, with most counts
putting the percent of white employees at 75-80%. While it used to be more overtly
discriminatory, the publishing industry now likes to preach its inclusivity through virtue
signaling statements. Though they may publish authors of color, in an article on LitHub,
Tajja Isen points out that “with towering barricades around any port of entry, the book
industry has always been complicit in marginalization."

Ideas of genre and category always naturally change over time. While tragedy and
comedy seem to persevere through the millenia, most other genres that are well-known
today are more recent developments. Science fiction wasn't a mainstay until the early 20th
century. Even now, it still struggles to know its borders. Is the writing of Mary Shelley and
Frank Herbert really comparable? The mystery genre has more of a lengthy history, but
now has a specific formula that many readers are familiar with that now often toes the line
or completely sinks into cliche.

Creatives always need to do something novel to make themselves stand out from the
crowd. While everything is derivative in some way, as nothing is made in a vacuum, adding a
new spin or take on something is what can bring in an audience. As always, capitalism has its
own role in this. When a new book is being marketed, the author and publisher take pains
to explain how interesting the book is. It's their job, and their livelihood may rest on it.
However, nine times out of ten, the supposed "reinvention" or “fresh look" being proposed
is engineered to be palatable for the largest common denominator.

For example, a book that claims it's a newer, more exciting romance is often the same
old shit. It falls into the genre perfectly, but creates the illusion that it doesn't for added
prestige. Anyone who's critical may not be fazed by it, but its target audience will eat it up.
Awkward prose and unorganized narrative structure don't matter if it taps into the right
niche of TikTok. In play acting as new and revolutionary, trope-y books overshadow actually
inventive novels.

There have been many books published that highlight issues of racism within the
industry itself. This is a hallmark of any industry that profits of f creative works. There are
also many films that spotlight stories of discrimination in Hollywood, but the systems in
place stay largely unchanged. “The absorption of dissent isn't surprising: loosening the valve
to release a little built-up tension is a time-honored tactic that lets the status quo carry on
unchecked." Isen uses this apt metaphor to describe how anything can be profitable. Even
if thought-provoking, it can't change the system all on its own.

Humans seek to categorize, but to what avail? I think that genre shouldn't be done
away with entirely, but should be recognized for what it is: a series of arbitrary constructs
dictated by a few people who have little care or understanding for the real world and the
complexity within it.

By: Dorian Blue

INSTITUTIONAL ABLEISM AT UO - My

EXPERIENCE
By: Adrian A

On October 14th, 2019, I was three weeks into my
freshman year at the University of Oregon. I was living
in Hamilton Hall, 8 hours away from my hometown in
California. While walking back from the EMU to my
dorm, I was struck by a car while using the crosswalk
at the 13th and Agate intersection. My left femur
absorbed the brunt of the impact and snapped - a
comminuted displaced fracture that initially appeared
to be a compound fracture. Luckily, the bone only tore
through the muscles and did not puncture through the
skin.

The femur (thighbone) is the longest and strongest
bone in the human body and rated as one of the most
painful bones to break. Evolving from quadrupedal
to bipedal locomotion means that human femurs
developed into an instrumental role in supporting the
weight of the body when you stand and stabilizing you
as you move; a break in the femur affects the function
of the entire body. Even with advanced surgical
treatment and physical therapy, it is near impossible to
recover into the person you were before the injury. I
was quickly rushed to PeaceHealth Riverbend and put
into traction, had an emergency surgery performed in
the early morning of October 15th by a highly skilled
orthopedic surgeon and did not suffer from severe
complications (like infections) resulting from the
surgery. I am extraordinarily privileged in this regard,
especially since I was a healthy active 18 year old before
the accident. Nevertheless, the fallout from this injury
was absolutely devastating.

The problems start with the accident site itself. The
13th and Agate intersection is infamous for being an
absolute shitshow due to the high volume of students
using it and how busy Agate St gets. Every single UO
student I have spoken to about the accident has an
anecdote about almost being hit by a car while using
that crosswalk. The ER staff recognized it immediately
and complained about the volume of injuries that
occur there. Just a ways away down the road is another
crosswalk between Hamilton and Unthank that has
flashing lights and more pedestrian safety - how hard
is it to approve the far busier four way stop?

Next comes UOPD. Right after the accident
occurred and I regained consciousness, both the driver

of the car and I were in shock. The driver, before being
ushered away by someone, said “I didn’t see you!” I
told anyone who would listen that I was sorry, I was
so embarrassed, this all has to be my fault somehow.
The driver's statement of not seeing me was not taken
down when UOPD responded to the scene. I was not
interviewed until I was in the ER room on a very high
dose of fentanyl and completely alone. The responding
officer's police report was less than a page and named
me, the pedestrian, at fault because I repeatedly
“expressed guilt” Nevermind the fact that I was in the
middle of the crosswalk when I was struck by the left
side of the car. The officer that responded to my case
went on vacation the day after, leaving me to have to
get a lawyer and give another statement to her sergeant
a month after the fact.

After seven days in the hospital, I was discharged
and went to stay with my sister and her husband in
Bend, OR. We were able to notify all of my professors
within two days post-op but as we began to settle me
in, it became clear that two weeks was nowhere near
enough time to recover. I was wheelchair bound, taking
oxycodone and muscle relaxers to try and dampen the
excruciating pain, unable to bathe or use the toilet
unassisted, and unable to dress myself or use any part
of my left leg. My lower back atrophied. My left foot
had little to no circulation, resulting in broken blood
vessels over my toes. As the physical toll was wreaking
havoc on my mental state, the academic consequences
were just beginning.

My sister, an alumni from UO, had her own
struggles with an undiagnosed learning disability while
attending which gave her experience with navigating
accommodations and academic support. When we
called the AEC, we were told that they couldn't help us
because they didn't deal with “temporary” disabilities.
She was absolutely floored by this response and no
appeal of ours could change that decision. I lost my
scholarship and couldn't appeal the decision. I was
forced to withdraw from 2 out of the 4 courses I was
enrolled in. I couldn't switch from Hamilton to a more
accessible residence hall. When I contacted different
offices at the University for help, my best options
were to essentially drop out and come back when I

was healed, which was not feasible financially. Our
phone calls and emails were going nowhere. I returned
to campus after one month of healing and decided I
would visit the offices of the multitudes of “resources”
available to students in-person to attempt to get my
academic career back on track.

I quickly realized that using a wheelchair would be
too much of an ordeal with the wet pavement and lack
of accessible entrances across campus. I forced myself
up onto crutches with poor technique and hobbled
down two flights of stairs every week to do laundry in
Hamilton's basement. The wet floors of the communal
showers (and multiple other halls across campus) were
incredibly dangerous to use crutches on, leaving me
to crawl on the disgusting moldy floors to shower.
Lawrence Hall’s “ramp” has a warning sign for how
steep the grade is, Condon’s “ramp” has irregular paving
and fills with puddles, the elevators for MacKkenzie,
Lawrence, Condon, and Gerlinger were slow and
tucked into far-away corners that added significantly
more time and frequently made me late to classes. I
applied for the access shuttle and was able to use it a
few times, but my schedule was never incorporated
into the system properly since it wasn't filed months
in advance. I had to use the same crosswalk I got hit
at almost daily. If a lecture hall or classroom did have
accessible seating, it was filled by other students which
forced me to sit in the regular seats. At this time in my
journey, I physically was unable to bend my knee to
a 90 degree angle and physically unable to sit in the
weird tilted seats for long periods of time because I'd
lose circulation in my feet and start having muscle
spasms in my lower back and thigh. My crutches would
get in the way of the other students, it was impossible
to use the bathroom, I couldn't carry my phone or a
coffee or food or get the door for myself. On top of
that, I had nightmares every night, I was barely eating
because Hamilton dining was inaccessible and noisy, I
was terrified of existing on campus and felt like I was a
complete nuisance for others to deal with.

My mental state got so bad that I hobbled across
the 13th and Agate crosswalk, yet again, to visit the
mental health services at the Health Center. I told the
front desk I was suicidal and paranoid and got to sit
with a sympathetic psychiatrist who informed me that
I met all of the criteria for PTSD. I admitted out loud
that the difficulty of existing, the daily extreme bodily
pain, and the growing number of overdue medical bills
being mailed to my dorm made me start to regularly

consider death as an option to escape from all of it. I
was informed that if I truly was feeling this way, then
I would be placed under a 72-hour psychiatric hold
and admitted to the hospital. I was still traumatized
from the E.R. and still receiving medical bills. I lied,
asked for my options for counseling, and was told
that long-term counseling would be required for my
case - I would be referred to therapists off-campus. I
could barely navigate campus at the time. I returned
to my dorm room and entered into a state of severe
dissociation.

I'm entering into my fifth year at UO and I’m set
to graduate with my BA in Spring 2024. I survived my
freshman year, I even managed to pass a few classes
every term - I was still put on academic probation, lost
my financial aid, received a warning letter to my home
address that I was about to flunk out of UO during
2020 and spent the entire summer writing letters of
appeal to strangers, sending unnamed members of the
UO Bureaucracy my medical records that depicted
my bruised, broken, injured body and my fragile
mental state. I routinely had to appeal Financial Aid
until I finally hit the credit load that was considered
“satisfactory. I missed out on opportunities to explore
my major, internships, and other opportunities during
my freshman and sophomore years and spent my
junior/senior year playing catch-up. I worked hard to
get to this place and I did it on my own.

This is absolutely unacceptable for an institution
that prides itself on acceptance and inclusion to do.
UO staff reminded me that “the University can’t be
held liable or sued because technically the city owns
the intersection and the driver wasn't afhliated with the
university!” more often than they informed me of ways
they‘d be able to make me get to class easier. I didn’t get
access to the academic tutors and support that student
athletes get when they’re about to fail out of their D1
scholarship eligibility nor did I get access to medical
assistance to help me recover from a severe fracture
to my femur - I was able to get a referral to physical
therapy from the surgeon and the Health center didn't
accept my insurance. I used this resource as long as I
was financially able to and tried to ignore the athletes in
my classes talking about the great massages they get for
tight muscles. Schill raised our tuition for the Hayward
Field remodel yet residence halls and other buildings
on campus are in violation of ADA regulations. The
AEC needs to do a serious review into their policies
and ask themselves why they decided that a student

who suffered from a major injury and required mobility
aids for the foreseeable future was disqualified from
receiving assistance.

I am furious that I have to try to reconcile the horrific
traumaIunderwentbecause someidiotatabusyand unsafe
intersection decided to whip a left turn too hard without
paying attention, with the desperate desire to remember
the great things I’ve experienced and accomplished here
at the University. When I first made this collage for Art
116, I was embarrassed to show it - it felt melodramatic,
deeply personal, and really embarrassing. Following the
responses from my classmates, I realized just how badly
I had gotten fucked over as a student paying 40,000
dollars a year to attend this university. I hope that this act
of traumadumping lights a fire under the University to
review their policies and inspires other students to speak
up about ableism they've faced on campus. I refuse to let
another student, whether they were physically disabled
before attending or become disabled during the school
year go through what I went through.

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Mental Health at the University of
Oregon

By: willow

When asking whether students should have their mental health supported by schools at the university
level, many answers can be reached. I would like to believe that many would lobby in support of students
receiving help, although that may not be the case. It is my belief that universities should be required to provide
support for student’s mental health to combat the epidemic of mental illness faced by the student demographic,
the rigors of academia that affect mental health, and the otherwise lack of support given to young adults during
difficult life transitions. University is a painstaking process, and it takes over the entire life of students who
attempt it. Particularly for those who have previous mental health issues, this can be a very trying time. With
the support of the school they attend, it is possible for students to succeed in both academia and their personal
lives, regardless of mental health issues. At the University of Oregon specifically, I find the accommodation
given to students facing mental health issues to be lacking due to personal experience and written testimonies
from other students. In this essay I will explore the ways that universities should be better supporting their
students to help them to succeed.

In a written testimony from a University of Oregon student published through The Student Insurgent,
they outline the complete lack of care that they received from the school when they experienced a mental
health crisis. During a depressive episode, they reached out to the school for help. Instead of receiving any
substantial form of assistance, they were sent a suicide risk screening. Not completing the screening threatened
“anything from a 72-hour psychiatric assessment to a hold on your university account. If the University of
Oregon actually cared about the wellbeing of their students, they should not have to threaten them to take
the steps they want them to take to keep them safe. It became abundantly clear that this policy was in place
to shield the University from lawsuits. They are doing the bare minimum”. I have unfortunately experienced
a similar situation to this one during a mental health crisis. I reached a point where I was forced to drop out
for a term, and instead of receiving any sort of help or assistance I had an academic warning placed onto my
account. It is highly discouraging to not be receiving any support from an institution that you are dedicating
both copious amounts of time and money to. It is my belief that the University of Oregon is severely lacking
in their support for students in terms of mental health assistance. Whether it be using students in training as
therapists, placing stipulations around who can use the Accessible Education Center, or threatening students
in crisis, the University of Oregon has a long way to go before they begin to perform effective care for their
students.

Considering the fact that 77% of undergraduate students experienced moderate to severe psychological
distress in 2022, it is my belief that it is not just the University of Oregon that is lacking in resources for
mentally ill students”. In a study done by the American College Health Association, it was found that one in
four students have experienced depression in the last year. These students were also at higher risk of academic
impairment, chronic pain, sinus infections, learning disabilities, and smoking habits’. The correlation between
mental and physical illness is well documented, universities should be supporting their students long before
they start to experience physical manifestations of their mental illnesses. College is supposed to be a time of
exploration, instead students are busy trying to stay afloat. According to Zara Abrams, “students today are
also juggling a dizzying array of challenges, from coursework, relationships, and adjustment to campus life to
economic strain, social injustice, mass violence, and various forms of loss related to COVID-19” (Abrams)*.
The expectations placed on students to balance both a healthy academic and social life while maintaining time

1 Hippo, Curious. Suicide at UO: An Illusion of Care. The Student Insurgent. May, 2022.
Z Bryant, Jessica & Welding, Lyss. College Student Mental Health Statistics. Best Colleges. February, 2023.
3 Lindsay, Fabiano & Stark. The Prevalence and Correlates of Depression Among College Students.

College Student Journal.

for self-care isn’t feasible for many students struggling with mental illness, it’s hard enough for folks who don't
have any sort of mental impairments. The lack of support from universities does nothing to better the lives

of these students, especially when they are a high-risk group. It is easier for universities to ignore the needs

of their students and force them to turn to outside resources than provide them with the help that they so
desperately need.

One effective resource that the University of Oregon has employed is the Accessible Education Center,
which allows students to receive accommodations for both mental and physical disabilities. This is the only
mental health resource available through the UO that I have personally found to be highly effective. Whether
it be priority registration, breaks during class, or lengthened test times, the AEC has many available resources
for students who struggle to keep up with a regular pace. There are, however, drawbacks to the Accessible
Education Center; unless you have either a therapist’s or psychiatrist’s official diagnosis of your deficits, you
cannot use the AEC. I understand that this is in hopes of making resources available to those who have been
officially diagnosed, but not everybody has the privilege of being officially diagnosed. Whether it be monetary
costs or lack of support, many students may not have the resources available to access the AEC. While the AEC
has been helpful for me and many other students, it has not served its full potential for many others.

Some may argue that it is not the responsibility of universities to be handling the mental health of
their students. There are outside resources that students can seek out, and universities have enough to handle
without having to add in mental health. With this I vehemently disagree. Students spend a minimum of four
years at a university, often spending multiple days a week on campus. This is not only a time investment for
students, but a substantial monetary investment too. Many students are taking out loans to support themselves
through college, which is a stressor in itself. Adding in the rigors of coursework on top of that, balancing a
social life, and having personal time is nearly impossible. Outside resources that should be available to students
are often inaccessible. For out of state students using school insurance, therapy outside of the school isn’t an
option unless they pay out of pocket. From personal experience I have learned that the University of Oregon
uses graduate students as therapists without informing their patients, giving them unreliable information
and advice. Seeking psychiatry outside of the school without insurance costs upwards of $200 a session,
not to mention the costs of medication. Students requiring higher levels of care such as intensive outpatient
programs or partial hospitalization pay thousands of dollars a month for this care. Those unable to hold a
job due to mental illness rely on the help of others for the essentials, much less for spendy mental health
assistance. If resources aren't offered through the universities that students spend so much time and money at,
many students have no resources available to them at all. This is not only a detriment to the students, but the
universities themselves. Students who are unable to care for themselves are often unable to attend their courses
or do their required coursework. This is reflected in the overall averages of the school and their displayed grade
point averages. If universities don’t care enough about their students to help them for the sake of their students,
they should do it for the universities themselves.

Mental illness is an epidemic among the student population, and one that doesn’t receive enough
recognition or assistance. Universities should be required to support their student’s mental health because of
the epidemic of mental illness faced by the student demographic, the rigors of academia that affect mental
health, and the otherwise lack of support given to young adults during difficult life transitions. It is my hope
that this essay has helped to outline the complete lack of resources dedicated to students struggling with
mental illness and some possible solutions. This is a topic near and dear to my heart as someone who has
struggled with mental illness their entire life. The lack of support given to students at the university level is
absolutely disheartening. I have watched many friends forced to leave this school due to the lack of support
given to them, I almost had to leave the school myself for that exact reason. It is my hope that more awareness
is raised for this topic and universities have a change of heart and start to care about supporting their students
throughout all stages of their academic career.

- Abrams, Zara. Student mental health is in crisis. Campuses are rethinking their approach. APA.
October, 2022

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“The Trans Joy EXPERIENCE”
Scan here to view full zine

Zine by: Spencer

You wish | were in your image.
Soft and delicate crevices,

but stone and sculpted angles
where a stomach and thighs
should be. You want me to be
tender and warm, an ample
bosom to fit your desires. What
| want is to fit my own gaze.
My body, soft in all the wrong
places, scars gently outlining
where breasts used to be.

My body isn’t an object to be
gazed upon, it is My home.

Art and poem by: Oliver Bee

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e following piece on the next page was written by Cameron Terhune, whose multimedia
artwork was featured in the Despair and Hope issue. Terhune sent this piece of writing

he stray cats that live in the prison grounds,
held at CTF North prison in California. You can read more of Terhune's writing at https://

prisonjournalismproject.org/2022/02/28/my-ukrainian-correspondence-saved-my-life/, and

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Cats and Dragons By: Ronin Grey

[the pen name | use for non-prison writing :)]

Imagine a creature. Imagine that this creature is a master hunter. Imagine that it is fierce and proud, that it is cunning
and patient, that it has the capacity to be roused to terrible fury but for the most part spends its days in a state of grand
repose, placid, calm, reflective. Imagine this creature too is not only intelligent, canny and instilled with the wisdom of the
ages but that it is also sleek, graceful in its every movement and beautiful in a way that only a exemplar of nature can be.

lf your mind tends towards the realms of fantasy, the creature you are picturing may be a dragon. If you take more of a
realist’s approach to your daydreaming the beast you envision might instead be a cat. What many fail to realize is that
these two creatures are one in the same. Supposing you are disinclined to simply take my word for it, allow me to illumine
this unconventional position: cats are dragons.

Dragons are often portrayed as devilishly intelligent, far smarter than a mere human. Yet, the skeptic objects, cats are not
as smart as humans. True — they are far, far smarter. For proof one need only examine the historical record of species
domestication. Humans have spent most of the span of our existence domesticating wild animals in order to gain their
cooperation in a variety of endeavors. Dogs help hunters and keep watch for intruders. Cows and pigs provide a stable
food supply. Sheep offer their wool to clothe us, horses pull plows, and so on. What purpose, then, do cats serve? Why
would early humans go to the great lengths required to domesticate cats if they served no purpose to our daily survival?

The reality, once we look beyond the pride of our species, is obvious. Humans did not domesticate cats. Cats
domesticated humans. Like the dragons, cats understand the usefulness of employing capable servitors with opposable
thumbs, so they set forth a plan to tame our rowdy breed. Its success has been nothing short of remarkable.

Cats are smarter than humans because humans expended tremendous effort to domesticate many different species to
perform many different tasks. Cats harvested the fruits of all our labor in one fell swoop and needed only to domesticate
a single species in order to achieve a perpetual leisure state still unmatched by human efforts despite millenia of
technological slogging. Witness that upon the vast digital altar humans make daily sacrifices, nothing is more widely
adored than cat videos.

Dragons, too, are known for their ability to charm. The magic of dragons Is the magic of cats, the bending of lesser minds
to their wills, the subtle mastery which never sits so heavy as to provoke rebellion. Again, the skeptic protests: “I have
never seen a cat wave a magic wand, nor perform an arcane invocation, nor even so much as utter a single inscrutable
syllable in order to further their mysterious ends!”

While i would be remiss if | didn’t point out the visceral reaction a human body experiences to the most magic of all words
— meow, a sound pregnant with the promise of impending delight, thus superior to the myriad, guttural vocalizations of
the lowly dog — | agree that cats proffer no theatrics. They need none. To understand the nature of cat magic one need
merely to pet one. Observe as your fingers begin to stroke the cat's fur the heady sense of peace settling over the mind.
This is what it feels like to be bewitched. As you continue to pet the cat, all anxieties gradually become more distant to the
entranced mind. All thoughts of doing anything besides petting the cat forever vanish. You may even be lulled to sleep.

Regardless of the intensity of the initial enchantment, the subject of a cat’s magic eventually finds themselves compelled
to seek the cat’s approval in all things. It becomes reasonable to follow the cat around and bear witness to its every idle
doing, to feed it according to its own exacting specifications, to provide the cat with every material comfort and even to
scoop out ‘the box.’ Even this ultimate expression of devotion, to the bespelled, seems a small price to pay in exchange
for the fluttering in our chest when the cat deigns to notice our presence, to direct towards us its attention, to allow our
approach and tolerate our clumsy attempts to amuse it.

This is the most basic form of cat magic, but it is only one of a cat’s many means of binding a human to its will. Should
further proof be needed, | cite the purr: a far more potent tool for ensuring total compliance. The purring of a cat has
been specially attenuated over eons of evolution to bypass all human resistance to its mandate. Once this hypnotic
vibration resonates within the hapless target the purr unleashes upon the human mind an emotional payload equivalent
to a mother’s lullaby and a father’s praise. Down to our bones, humans seek both a sense of security and to be
acknowledged. This sonic barrage tells us, ‘all is well, pet human. You are safe. You are appreciated. Nothing bad will
happen so long as you continue to do exactly this.’

The strength of the purr’s hold on an individual can be ascertained by the most basic of tests: once you have been
enthralled by the purr, attempt to stop petting the cat and recall what you were doing before the cat subverted your
attention. Most often the difficulty of such a thing is immense, thus the spell only ends when the cat wills it.

Cats are dragons. They rule the world, but they are benevolent conquerors who do not seek to upset their subjects or
throw our lives into chaos. In fact, catocracy desires to usher in the reverse. Cats prefer order and harmony. Observe that
petting a cat is calming in the extreme. It promotes good mental health, positive feelings, good self esteem and reduces
stress. It is meditative without being indulgent, comforting but not decadent. A cat reminds its human to take time from
our busy lives to rest, to breathe, to untangle our minds from the knots we find ourselves in when we forget to anchor
ourselves in the present. Cats alleviate depression, loneliness, boredom and cabin fever. They also protect humans

from rodents, insects and the premier, perennial housepest: the bird. They promote good hygiene, good sleep and good
manners. Their guiding paws offer a model we would do well to emulate, shaping us into better humans without running
roughshod over our free will, unlike the modes of authority we endlessly inflict upon ourselves.

Cats are dragons, in the end, because just as dragons in our mythology represent an ultimate, so too do cats embody the
very best traits we wish to possess — intelligence, compassion, curiosity, ingenuity, serenity — without any of our so-human
emotional baggage. Cats have carved for themselves a simple niche in our complex world that allows them to spend all
day every day doing exactly as they please without causing harm to others. That they managed to achieve utopia without
ever working a forty hour week, without getting stuck in traffic or standing in line, and with zero carbon footprint only
underscores how much we have yet to learn from their noble example.

Dragons once filled the skies and hoarded all the treasures of the world. Then they realized all they needed to tame us
was cuddly fur and a little bit of magic, and forever after humanity belonged to the cats.

AD ©

“Collaborative desk doodle by 2 strangers in 2
class times” University of Oregon, December 2023

friends with the Best itmerican Girl

By: Alexa Cruz Abarca

It’s beyond frustrating growing up with your femininity being questioned, children
relentlessly teasing about my hair and amazed by how I was unsure of playground games. It
was isolating, I saw girls being praised and wondered why it couldn't be me. I befriended the
most extraordinary girl, Elise, it felt reassuring that someone had viewed me of value that
happened to be white. Time passed and I was in Elise’s car with our other friends, filled with
bass boosted club music and laughs — it’s interrupted by Kylie, a Korean American,

“Oh God, I think the reason why I wanted to be liked by the white girls in my dance
class was because I wanted to be them.” The car goes silent with quiet giggles erupting, I
look over to Elise and a realization hits me.

Throughout our friendship, I admired Elise, I was obsessed with her smile and
gorgeous round eyes. I questioned if I had a crush on her, but my admiration of her wasn’t
on par with a realization of sexuality. So dearly, I wanted to be her other half — that I
am just as beautiful and like her. People staring, impeccable fashion, taste that was highly
regarded and no question of her femininity — she is the picture of girlhood and innocence
that was enviable. I couldn’t relate to other girls, games of patty cake and mash weren't

games I had grown up W ith, the clothes my

how hard I tried to assimilate, it felt out of

long hair were a reason to pull. No matter
: reach. I could be in the same neighborhood,

mother chose for me were laughable and my
= |

ify same interest in toys, same socioeconomic

status and was continuously alienable. Elise
was what I desired, she was all of that

and our friendship was the closest way I
could configure my image to be seen as a
properly feminine girl. Even in our later
years, she was my inspiration for makeup
and I would contour my face to attempt like
hers, acceptable youth beauty that is seen as
desirable and unalienable. Despite her being
my tether in Eurocentric excellence, she is

CGamenic a N) ag Oe still my greatest connection to femininity

— ¢ and intrapersonal connections of a white
(Ss —. patriarchal world.

Art by: Alexa Cruz Abarca

Rose and
Lavender

The boiling water rises
Whistling of the kettle shrill

My eye lies on the prize

There will be an end to my chill

Color blossoms in the mug
Sumptuous stripes of steam
Quickening the internal tug
Put to my lips, a floral dream

Soft, cushioned fields of lavender
Against the rose’s cutting thorns
| can’t turn back the earthly calendar
And escape their mounting scorn

There’s an urge in me to unwind

To sit with my tea until there’s nothing
more

Thewworld is in an impossible bind
Except for another ‘blend | found to pour

ll take what | can, but how much is left
Our woes go from lukewarm to cold, no
longer deft

When the storm is over there,will be calm
For now, | only have my multitude of qualms

“Fake roses and handmade lavender stems
picturedvat the LGBTQA center on campus”

By: Dorian Blue

Over and Back

The trees show me their bare branches
Gnarled, raw

The cold bites through my resolve

A crow’s caw

Sounds in the pale blue above

Love like winter

Barren and biting

But it will never splinter

The frost in my chest

Will it melt and let me rest?

The world outside is so dark

The last thing | want is a sense of
hostility

Instead, vitality

In the beginning threads of spring
Green will arise

Nascentiin its glimmer
Thescrowning of a worthy affection
Caught in\the resounding highs
And decadent lows

| scramble soundlessly

A squirrel on a branch

Making,my way to a more inviting world
One where

The roses,and forget-me-nots arein
bloom

And.all is fair

My happiness lifting from the gloom

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Tee a - 0, = Se d : zi
ee ee din IOS Z ;
-~ al

SRST oe. ote

How the Wizarding World Became Straight

[Fanfiction to critically think about]
By: nephrite

Draco sprinted through the trees, his soaked cloak flapping in the wind, slapping against his skinny
ankles. “Damn my ankles are cold” he thought, after all he was 7 feet tall, and most pants just
weren't long enough, even with the seams let out. His gay ass platform boots squelched in the mud
with every step, a constant metaphor for his traumatic past bogging him down. Though in this case,
it was quite a lot more literal, as it was exactly what he was running from.

Draco didn’t always know he was gay. At Hhogwarts girls would ask him out left and right: Cho
Chang, Hermione (though she would never publicly admit it to her friends Hharry and Rron), Ebony
Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way (and all those other emo bitches), as well as even some vampire
girls! Most didn’t know, as he was very human passing, but Draco was in fact half vampire. Of
course he had to hide this identity... he was born out of a marital affair and thusly was the only
vampire in the family. It was a constant identity crisis. Adding onto his trauma, and sexy gaunt
eyebags.

But Draco rejected every one of them, they were of course beautiful, even drop dead stunning, but
that spark just was not there. But then, Draco discovered Kpop. And his bias::: Jimin. Jimin’s silky
black hair, soft pouty lips, bussin dance moves, and iridescent voice captivated Draco. Draco also
loved how Jimin had such a cute resting bitch face in certain pictures, because Draco felt he was
very relatable, as Draco was also gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing through his own life.
Draco had a Jimin shrine, Draco lived for Jimin, breathed for Jimin, and made his psychedelic punk
rock alt band for Jimin. One day, Draco was determined to have Jimin join his band: Funko Draco
Punko.

But this happy girlipop era was short lived, for soon his world came shattering down because the
boy who was not unalived came to hogwarts, and Draco realized he had bigger selkies to fry:
making sure Harry didn’t rule the school as the cool alt gayboi. Because Harry’s Twitch regularly
had 1 million views, which may not seem like a lot.. But the wizarding world is a lot smaller. Draco
seethed as he listened to Like Crazy (english version) and nibbled the end of his quill. He knew

it was only because Harry wore those cute cat headphones and strawberry girl makeup. Harry

was too kawaii for Draco to compete with, especially with Draco’s thick eyeliner, iron chains, and
deadboi aesthetic. His half vampire blood also only exacerbated the problem, as he was practically
translucent when he was angry or embarrassed (because he was so pale and a vampire), and was
too invisible to even be cute anymore! Draco buried himself in his magic, killing Harry’s confidence,
and Korean class. He was very good at Kkorean.

But then one day dturing Saturday Korean tutoring, Harry joined the Korean class. And somehow
was fluent?? Language classes were stressful enough because the lowkey competition and toxic
learning environment! But this was the last straw on the haystack of misery or whatever the saying
is. Draco was livid, and shed some blood tears, then quickly ran away so no one would know he
was a vampire. Though it doesn’t even matter anyway, because with Harry’s kawaii twitch streams,
and perfect korean, Harry was bound to catch the eyes of beautiful Jimin and it was over for Draco!

Anyways as Draco sprinted through the forbidden forest and away from this trauma, he ran into an
invisible wall. “WHat the fuck!” He yelled, wiping boiling blood tears from his eyes. Then suddenly,
the wall shimmered and a towering castle flickered into view. Draco gasped... the coveted rumored
BTS castle??!?!?!? There were soaring glass trellises and flying korean buttresses. Gargoyles

of each of BTS little mascot thingies lined the peaks of the castle, warding off other Kpop

group’s success (fuck NCT). Soft strains of Dynamite - Acoustic remix tingled out of the vertically
rectangular windows. The air pulsated with BTS energy, and Draco felt his big emotions slink to the
back of his mind.

“This is my chance” he whispered. “My chance to seduce my loml: Jimin!”

Draco danced and shimmied his way inside to the last riffs of Dynamite- acoustic remix, and
stepped into the grand hall to the tune of permission to dance.

KXXXXKXKXKXKKKKK KKM MK KKM MK KM MMM
“We've been waiting for you.” boomed a voice [in Korean].

“Who, me?” Draco murmured, batting his eyelids.
A rainbow disco light flooded on illuminating Jin,
Suga, J-Hope, RM, V, Jungkook, and, Draco’s
beloved, Jimin. Draco was honored to be there,
they were all wearing cozy sweat pants and wife
beaters, clearly taking a needed rest from their
busy idol schedules. Draco stared wistfully at
Jimin. His hair was perfectly tousled, framing his
beautiful face. His muscles rippled as he reached
up to fiddle with his locket chain. Draco nearly
giggled, he knew Jimin had ADHD (even though
Draco didn’t), and his restlessness only proved how well Draco spiritually knew Jimin! Draco Sanat
in bliss, as Jimin’s lavender-y scent wafted towards him.

Then suddenly, Draco heard a click, and the locket fell open as if in slow mo. Then Draco’s half-
vampire super senses honed in like a mirrorless digital camera... and Draco choked on his breath.
The picture in the locket was no other than Renjun from NCT! Draco’s vision blurred, his heart

felt hot, and his brain turned to mush. Jimin... and Renjun??? How could this be? Draco had

spent every waking minute indulging in deep dives into the internet, researching Jimin’s life, and
performing satanic rituals to ensure their intertwined fate. But now this little ho Renjun had stolen his
precious Jimin away??

Draco began to grunt and moan, his canines elongated into full vampire fangs, and his muscles
rippled in a skinny but still toned typa way. He lunged at Jimin with a roar, his chilly arctic eyes
suddenly alive with flames. He wanted one thing and one thing only: to suck the life out of Jimin.
If Draco couldn’t have him, then no one should have him at all. Draco’s hands grappled Jimin’s
shoulder and the nape of his neck, and his fangs closed in.

Then suddenly, a warm body shot in between and yelled “STOPPP” [in korean].

“Don’t be a toxic ass bitch Draco. | know you're better than that. | Know you’ve been through so
much, with your trauma and stuff.” [this is all in Korean btw, draco’s proficiency is pretty high like a
solid 3 on the OPIc with developing skills at level 4]

“Draco. lve been watching you. | admire everything you do. Funko Draco Punko is my favorite band.
| love how you tie in so much symbolism between your mixed vampire-human identity and your
crooning dark gothic lyrics. | Know you draco, | understand you. You def aren’t as cool as Harry
Potter. | neeeed you. You are MY idol, Draco”

Draco was speechless. The fire disappeared from his piercing tranquil blue eyes and he looked
down into the orbs of the person who had just spoken those beautiful words.

“Jungkook?” Draco breathed.
MKKK KK KKM MMMM NYKO

Draco opened his groggy eyes. Before him lay the angelic face of Jungkook. Draco felt nothing
but love and affection: here was his savior who had stopped him from killing Jimin, thus exposing
his identity as vampire and getting him kicked out of hogwarts! If Draco had been kicked out of
hogwarts, his family would be appalled. And nothing is more important than the Malfoy family’s
approval. Filial piety ran strong in Draco.

Draco watched Jungkook sleep for another 7 and a half minutes. Then softly got up and padded
down the stairway and to the BTS mansion kitchen. Then he cooked Jungkook a delicious breakfast
of eggs, bacon, and waffles with blood- strawberry syrup. The blood strawberry syrup was to
reminisce on the first day they met, today on their second day anniversary. Suddenly Renjun and
Jimin walked in, hand in hand. Draco nodded “sup” to them. Yesterday after Jungkook stopped
Draco, Jimin was initially really angry. But after a little talk, they cleared the air and now were close
friends on instagram!

Draco was about to bring the breakfast feast up to Junkook, but then Jungcook padded into the
kitchen and kissed Draco on the cheek. The four of them, Draco, Jungkook, Jimin, and Renjun all
walked into the dining hall to eat together. They sat down at the kitchen table in chairs poised like
thrones. Draco was on top of the world, he was with his new true love, Jungkook, and nothing could
stop their happiness. Then suddenly Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s dad, stormed in.

“DRACOOOO” he roared “what are you doing with JUNGKOOK'!!!”
“He’s the loml!” Draco bravely cried back. Draco had pretty low self esteem, so this was a big deal.

“Jungkook has six-lobe piercings (two on the right and four on the left), two helix piercings, and one
eyebrow piercing, that is too many holes! It’s dishonorable Draco, how shameful for a half vampire
half emo teenage wizard like yourself to be so infatuated with someone who would voluntarily
puncture so many holes in their body! It’s bad enough that you have the spontaneous urge to
puncture holes in other people, because youre half vampire, but this is low. Even for you!”

Draco shed bloody vampire tears. He always hated that he was half vampire, it isolated him from
the Malfoy family. He had always taken on this burden himself. But he just couldn’t control himself
anymore

“Father, if you had not whored around so much on mother, | would be able to love who | want to
love! And marry who | want to marry! Fuck you and your libido!”

Lucius was speechless. Then he quietly and dangerously whispered “I thought this might happen.”
Then Lucius took out his wand, waved it, and muttered “apparate,”. His surroundings, the BTS
mansion, and Junkook pixelated away, as Draco was tearfully whisked back to the Malfoy mansion.

KKKKKK KKK KKK KKM MK HMMM MM HMMM MK MK

Draco was even more emo than ever before. His heart longed for Jungkook. He even dyed his
hair black, the color of deepest darkest mourning in wizard culture. Draco and Jungkook had been
staying in contact through the lyrics of Jungkook’s songs, like Seven Days a Week which Draco
knew was a secret message from Jungkook. Alas, Junggkook could not come visit Draco because
Hybe Co was trying to cover up the dramatic whirlwind love between Jungkook and Funko Draco
Punko star, Draco Malfoy.

Even more pressing, it had been 9 months, and Draco had been hiding from the Malfoys that he
was pregnant! With Jungkook’s baby!! Everyone stared at Draco in between his wizardry classes

and in the hallways, they knew that something was off with Draco, but just could not figure out what!

Then suddenly, there was a ruckus in the great hall. Draco ran to go look at all the hubbub. Then
he gasped. The great hall was covered with massive flyers of Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven

all Harry hung up a gay flag in his room in the background of his twitch streams, and publicly talked
about his struggles as a gayboi in the limelight of society! But now.... He was a lying sneaking
sneaky snake!

“And they say slytherins are sneaky,” Draco muttered to himself saltily. Then he trudged back to the
dorms. He didn’t have time anymore for drama like that. He had bigger selkies to fry.

After these two events, Hogwarts descended into hetero-hell. The two icons of the gay scene

now retreating into the shadows and crevices of society gave way for the boring ass straight jocks
to rule the school. Sparkle, pizzazz, and rainbows left hogwarts creating an empty shell of the
queer haven it used to be. The rest of the gays became closeted again. Arandom writer named
JK Rowling visited and saw the gloom, then wrote a best selling book on the now decrepit lives

of wizard teenagers. Time passed, plots thickened and thinned. Lives were lived, lives were lost.
Voldemort came to power, then faded away again. Draco and Harry remained washed up legends
of before. Jungkook never had time to visit Draco. Time seemed to lose meaning and purpose as
the starcrossed fates of Draco and Jungkook gradually drifted apart. Henceforth this generation of
wizards forever lost queer joy.

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